


my biggest enemy is myself

by goldpeak



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Artist Steve Rogers, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fluff, Hurt Bucky Barnes, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Protective Steve Rogers, Recovery, Sleepy Cuddles, write the garbage you want to read
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-23
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-01-24 07:38:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18566881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldpeak/pseuds/goldpeak
Summary: in which bucky barnes is a studious and shy college student who has just received his substitute teaching permit, and steve rogers is a talented and beloved teacher at the local high-school.alternatively, bucky finally finds a way to break free from his past and is scrambling to get his life back together, and steve proves to be the biggest and best distraction for him.





	1. prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: vaguely-described abuse and sexual assault, with brief description of injuries afterwards.

prologue

 

the door slams shut, rattling the picture frames lining the walls. with it, a cold gust of air gushes through the hallway, spilling out into the living room where bucky is sitting. his legs tucked up to his chest, soft blanket thrown around his shoulders, and school binder balanced on his knees, bucky had been enjoying his evening, alone.

 

upon hearing the door, bucky quickly turns off the TV, cutting off the nature documentary’s narrator.

 

“welcome home, babe!” bucky calls nervously, stuffing his half-finished writing assignment back into his binder and setting it all off to the side. he sits up, leans forward and looks around the corner, trying to catch a glimpse of brock.

 

he sees brock toss his coat onto the bench by the door, and quickly toe off his shoes. he doesn’t reply to bucky, which means that he’s in a less-than-pleased mood.

 

bucky swallows nervously as brock turns around and strides into the living room, where bucky’s residing.

 

“how was work?” bucky asks, voice timid, just before brock’s hand fists in his collar.

 

stifling a whine, he grits his teeth and staggers to his feet, looking up at brock with pleading eyes as the latter drags him to the nearest wall and throws him against it.

 

five months of dating, three months of this type of behavior, and bucky still hasn’t gotten used to it.

 

brock presses his lips against bucky’s, harshly, nipping at the latter’s lip. instinctually, bucky opens his mouth and lets brock’s tongue slip in, long-since having learned that resisting ends up being much worse for him. he tries to go limp, forcing the tension to leave his body, and screws his own eyes shut.

 

brock presses himself into bucky, jamming a knee between bucky’s legs and grabbing his shoulder with the other hand. his fingers dig into bucky’s skin unforgivingly as he tugs at one of bucky’s lips, biting down just this side of too-hard. then, he’s nipping down bucky’s jaw and pressing bruising ‘kisses’ under his jaw, down his neck, and even to his collar bone.

 

“brock,” bucky whispers, eyes still screwed shut and hands curled into fists. “please don’t. let’s have dinner. let’s talk.”

 

at that, brock tightens his grip on bucky’s shoulder and rips his own belt off.

 

bucky doesn’t remember a lot of the night after that. just that it’d been worse than anything that had ever happened between them, that it left him with gashes and blisters on his wrists and ankles, bruises and bite-marks on his neck and shoulders, and blood in his mouth.

 

after the fact, bucky scrounges through his drawer for clean clothes, grabs his school bag and books it out of brock’s apartment, his hands still shaking and lip still bleeding- blood and tears both rolling down his face.  
  


 


	2. whole-ass stranger

 for the first time in a long time, there’s a huge, genuine smile on bucky’s face. his eyes wide and bright, he stares down at the email on his phone.

 

his confirmation email that informs him that his substitute permit has been completed successfully and he’s now eligible to sub for any school in new york stares back at him.

 

bucky feels a satisfaction and excitement entirely disproportionate to the size of the achievement. but, it’s about more than being able to sub in a school- it’s about him getting everything back on track, working towards his future career, making some _money, God- taking_ agency over his own life.

 

it’s about all of that, and more, but hell, bucky is happy for the first time in ages and he wants to revel in it.

 

so, he detours from his planned route home, takes an early left and crosses an extra street to find himself on the corner of a local starbucks. with yet another smile, he slips inside.

 

-

“see ya’, rogers!” brent calls with an enthusiastic smile as the kid steps out of steve’s classroom. steve nods at him affirmingly before letting out a huge sigh, as soon as the door closes.

 

he slowly sits back down in his desk chair, putting his feet up on his desk- a thing he scolds his students for on the daily- and pulling out his phone- another thing he scolds them about.

 

the clock reads 3:30. at least his and brent’s tutoring session hadn’t gone over the allotted time of an hour. god, the kid might be charismatic but steve still needs some time to himself after six classes of kids straight, so the tri-weekly tutoring appointments leave him tired and burnt-out.

 

regardless, he immediately sets his phone back down and begins to habitually pack up his stuff, ready to retire to his favored coffee shop and lesson-plan for the following week. he is going to be absent for a day next week, by reason of an ‘important’ meeting (even though any meeting that principal pierce deems important is often far from that).

 

he’s driving out of the school parking lot by 3:45, still before many of his coworkers.

 

when he arrives at his favored starbucks and orders his favored coffee, he turns to sit down at his favored bar-stool – just to find it occupied.

 

swallowing heavily, he opts to sit two seats away from the, admittedly, attractive young man occupying his normal seat.

 

as he pulls out his laptop and lesson binder, he can’t help himself from glancing over at the guy. his hair, tied up in an artful bun, is thick and chocolate-brown (like the good dark chocolate steve likes, actually) and steve feels a weird urge to run his hands through it.

 

 _that’s weird,_ he tells himself. _that’s a whole-ass stranger right there._

he shakes his head and opens up his school calendar.

 

-

bucky would have to be blind (and not overly-cautious of his surroundings) not to notice the insanely hot guy sit down two seats away from him at starbucks.

 

deliberately keeping his head firmly turned to his own schoolwork, bucky settles for side-eyeing the stranger for the duration of his visit. he notices that he’s dressed well, black slacks and a modestly-patterned button-down (it’s taupe plaid, for your information) with a statement burgundy tie. bucky also can’t help but notice that the burgundy of the tie is affrontingly gorgeous next to this man’s golden, honey-brown hair- and, god, bucky does actually tear his gaze away then because he doesn’t want to be catching feelings for the random guy in starbucks, for, all he knows, could be as bad as brock.

 

sufficiently over it, thanks to that last thought, bucky immerses himself in his schoolwork.

 

two hours later, bucky’s finished up the rough draft of his child psych paper, and with a click, has sent it off to his professor. he gathers his stuff up, packs it away, and shoulders his backpack, heading towards the trash can to deposit his trash.

 

just before leaving, he looks over his shoulder to glance at the hot stranger one more time- and that’s when he notices the _white birch high-school_ logo on his messenger bag.

 

“oh, shit,” bucky whispers as he turns away and speed-walks home.

 

after a little bit of panicking, and a little bit more rational thought, bucky has rationalized his concern over the hot stranger apparently being a teacher at the high-school he intends on routinely subbing at. he was bound to meet him eventually, so, really, it’s better that he’d had a chance to ogle him prior to that. and, anyway, the odds of him running into the same guy were small, considering that there were something like one hundred classes at white birch and bucky would only sub for one or two a day, leaving infinitesimally small chances he’d interact with the hot stranger (well, does he really qualify as a stranger if bucky knows where he works, and has spent an hour thinking about him?).

 

bucky spends the weekend nose-deep in his psych books and classroom management brochures that had come attached with the email. he’d promptly printed them and whipped out his color-coded highlighters, not wanting his first day subbing to be a horrid disaster.

 

so, curled on the couch late sunday night, the substitute teaching app on his phone pings and he excitedly accepts the request to sub for mr. rogers’ US history class the following day.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hm. does this make bucky lucky or unlucky? what do you think?
> 
> drop a comment and let me know what you think of the above question, of the story so far, or of anything else at all! kudos' are always appreciated as well. thank you for reading!
> 
> i will be posting chapter 2 tomorrow.


	3. mr. bucky, sir

it’s monday morning at five am that bucky realizes he doesn’t have the best wardrobe for a substitute teacher who is aiming to look professional, by all accounts of the word. after having seen that other teacher in a pressed button-up and a tie, he has an idea of the dress code for white birch, and is digging through his small assembly of clothes to look for something he can dress up.

 

he has one pair of black slacks, and if he can just find a- oh, perfect.

 

he whips out a dark blue sweater and tugs it over his head, before straightening the collar of the gray button-up he has on underneath it. the sweater is mostly to hide the bleach stain on the lower right half of the shirt, and to mask the fact that bucky only has one tie to his name- which is a horrific golden color (with planets and stars printed on it!) that he wouldn’t be caught dead in anywhere except a solar-system-themed halloween party.

 

he grabs his own messenger bag (reserved for more professional adventures), his thermos of coffee, and his phone, before jogging down the stairs of his modest apartment and striding confidently (all a façade, don’t worry) towards the high-school, just a few blocks away.

 

as he walks, he clenches his hands into fists at his sides and puts great effort into steeling his expression. he’s going to be calm, cool, collected and a little badass, because he is so over being the jittery, nervous kid and- this is the perfect chance to make a brand-new identity for himself, and he’s going to do just that.

 

he wants to be the ideal version of himself. which, really, isn’t himself at all, but he still wants to be _that_.

 

so, turns out that repressing all of your anxieties about your first day as a substitute teacher _isn’t_ the best coping method, but it _is_ what has bucky gasping for breath as he slaps the visitors pass sticker onto his chest.

 

 _so much for calm, cool and collected,_ he thinks to himself.

 

“i don’t have any sub plans here on file, so they’re probably on the desk. are you alright, dear?” the pleasant receptionist asks, and bucky flashes her a quick, charming smile.

 

for a gay guy, he sure knows how to woo the ladies.

 

“of course, ma’am.”

 

with that, he opens the doors and steps onto campus, definitely _not alright_ but not willing to acknowledge such!

 

 _remember,_ he tells himself, starting up a flight of stairs. _not yourself. be better_.

 

-

so, turns out that watching round planetuntil 11 pm on a sunday night was not the most productive thing steve could’ve done. in that, he’d typed up half of his sub plans before passing out on his couch and definitely _not_ emailing them to the receptionist, therefor leaving his sub for the following monday without plans or resources.

 

that’s how he ends up parking his car in the drop-off section of the school and running to his classroom- over-dressed in his meeting attire (navy blue suit, white shirt, silver-blue tie)- just to be stopped short in the doorway by _that_ stranger with the chocolate hair.

 

what. the. fuck.

 

“hi!” is the stupidest word that could’ve come out of steve’s mouth in that moment. it is also the word that _did_ come out of his mouth.

 

steve’s unable to decide if his face is beet-red or paper-white, so he just awkwardly combs his already immaculate hair out of his face and waves the folder in his other hand aimlessly.

 

“sorry, sorry, here are the sub plans. i forgot to- yeah, here.”

 

the stranger turns to look at him with the most impossibly gorgeous blue eyes that steve’s ever seen, and the latter forgets how to breathe.

 

“oh! thank you,” the blue-eyed stranger says, taking the folder gently. then, he sticks out his other hand. “i’m bucky.”

 

“steve. steve rogers,” the other says, shaking the offered hand- and, oh, yes, he notices how soft and warm that bucky’s (what a cute name, god) hands are- so, sue him! “this is, uh, my class.”

 

“yeah, i figured that when you handed me the sub plans,” bucky says, voice light and teasing and yep, steve’s face is definitely erring on the side of beet-red by now.

 

with that, the bell rings and the first students file into the classroom and obediently take their seats. funny how not having a seating chart actually makes it so the kids sit down and stay down quicker.

 

“right, of course,” steve chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck semi-awkwardly. he tries to regain his cool, taking the blissful lapse in conversation that’d been enabled by the bell. “well, i’ll say something really quick to my kids and then i’ve gotta run.”

 

by that time, the entire class had sat down and were all looking between steve and bucky curiously.

 

“alright kids, i’ve got a meeting in a little bit so i gotta yeet myself out of here,” steve begins, relishing in the unanimous _groan_ that his class makes at his correct, but still un-cool use of the verb. “so, behave for mr…bucky?”

 

steve wants to yeet himself into the nearest grave, after that.

 

“mr. barnes, please,” bucky/mr. barnes says with a light chuckle (steve realizes with alarm that he can’t tell if he’s imagining the annoyance layered into it or not).

 

“mr. barnes. behave for mr. barnes.”

 

“or, you’ll yeet us?” sarah questions, boldly.

 

“i’ll yeet a 5-page essay at you, yes!”

 

with that, steve rushes out of the room.

 

-

so, turns out that infinitesimally small chance that bucky would sub for that hot stranger’s class isn’t _that_ small.

 

okay, but god, did he look even better in that suit? he did, bucky thinks. he’s impressed that the man can pull of a pale silver-blue tie, too, like jesus- his complexion would suit any color, bucky’s sure of it.

 

and, okay, yeah- the fact that he’d forgotten to put sub plans out didn’t reflect the best onto him, but bucky’s seen worse- and, okay, he’s also relieved that the stranger (steve, actually) had been so awkward, because it enabled bucky _not_ to be, and like, he’d come out of that interaction on top.

 

bucky was doin’ the thing- doin’ the ‘ideal version of himself’ thing and it had worked! he’d come off just as he’d wanted to with steve- and, wow, it does work? he had blushed immensely the second steve had left, but that’s beside the point.

 

besides, the mr. bucky slip-up had been funny, and bucky didn’t predict it’d have any lasting effects, anyway.

 

wrong.

 

“so, mr. bucky, what’re we doing today?”

 

“good question,” he says, with a chuckle, before opening up the folder of sub plans. “let’s find out.”

 

okay, so what’s really interesting about steve is that the folder he had handed bucky was, decidedly, empty(?).

 

bucky’s not sure what to do about that. he only lets himself stress for a minute, before repressing _that_ feeling, and turning to his class.

 

“okay, kiddos. what’re you guys talking about in class right now?”

 

two hands shoot into the air. he picks one of them, a girl with curly brown hair.

 

“we’re talking about the end of the war in the pacific, and the use of the atomic bombs on japan.”

 

bucky whistles lowly. that’s a heavy topic for him to cover for steve, especially when the opinions on that matter can be so split. but, in true historian fashion, he vows to put all opinions aside and discuss it objectively- however, bucky _does_ think that history should all be served with a side of emotion…just, at a later date once all the objective facts are gathered.

 

“okay,” bucky says, leaning on the corner of steve’s desk. “who can tell me which president was in office to make that decision?”

 

three hands go up. bucky nods at one of the boys.

 

“truman was the sitting president,” the boy says, pale brown hair covering some of his forehead.

 

“good,” bucky says, with a nod to him- and the boy smiles lightly. “that’s correct. who can tell me the date that the first bomb was dropped?”

 

only one hand goes up; it’s that girl from earlier. he nods at her encouragingly.

 

“the first one was dropped on hiroshima on august sixth of nineteen forty-five.”

“correct. the second one was dropped on nagasaki on the ninth of that same month and year.” bucky takes a look around the class; most are paying attention, though no one looks overly enthused- so he decides to ramp it up a notch. “i want everyone to think about the decision that truman had to make. what were some of the different things he considered when making it? feel free to use your textbooks.”

 

there’s a slight rustling as kids pull the books out from under their desks and flip them open. however, already, that brown-haired boy from earlier is putting his hand up.

 

“what’s your name, kid?” bucky asks.

 

“peter,” he answers shyly, hand wavering from its place high in the air.

 

“alright, peter. what’cha got for me?”

 

“truman had to decide between the lives of american soldiers and japanese civilians.”

 

“though that sounds blunt, peter is absolutely correct.” bucky pauses, looks around again. at least fifteen pairs of eyes are on him, the rest are in the books. he swallows nervously, feeling his neck growing hot under his shirt. unconsciously, he wiggles a finger into the knot of his tie and loosens it fractionally. “the japanese had made it known that they were not going to surrender, no matter what. in fact, when their soldiers were captured, they’d often kill themselves before the american troops could detain them. does anyone know why?”

 

“i heard somewhere that their own military was feeding them propaganda about what happened to japanese soldiers in american prisons,” a kid with his feet propped on the desk answered, without raising his hand, but bucky was impressed that he was speaking up at all- so he let it slide. “is that true, mr. bucky?”

 

“that is somewhat true. what’s your name?”

 

“brent, sir.”

 

“brent. that’s somewhat true, yeah. so, basically, some shi-, sorry, uh, _bad_ american soldiers would refuse to accept the surrender of japanese soldiers, and would kill them anyway. that made many other japanese soldiers fear that surrendering would just end up with them dying, as well, based on past events. though the ones who were captured and imprisoned were kept in adequate conditions when the western soldiers captured them, ones captured by soviets faced work camps in siberia, which were extremely harsh. it’s true that the japanese military encouraged suicide before capture, to limit the risk of any information being revealed during interrogations.” noticing that he’s gone off on a tangent, bucky blushes a bit and scolds himself. _too excited, barnes. chill_. “that answer your question?”

 

“yeah, it does!” brent says enthusiastically, and to bucky’s surprise, he’s actually scribbling some notes down on a paper he’d pulled out. some kids were.

 

bucky smiles to himself. this isn’t that bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter three comin' tomorrow.... our boys will meet once more.
> 
> comments and kudos' are appreciated, as always. thank you for reading! <3


	4. coffee coffee coffee coffee

bucky leaves the campus at the end of the day feeling elated, to say the least. he’s got a spring in his step, his eyes are bright, and he feels _confident._

 

first period had gone great, yeah, but the rest of the classes? even better. he’d gotten a chance to get a feel for really lecturing in front of a class during first period, and slimmed down his information to give it more concisely to the rest of the classes. second period had been way into it, and almost every kid had been taking notes. third period had been largely the same as first, as had fourth, but fifth and sixth were genuinely interested and some kids just kept asking questions- what really made bucky happy when _other_ kids went and answered those same questions before he could. they were engaged, goddammit!  
  


he is almost glad that steve accidentally gave him nonexistent sub plans, even though he knows steve will be kicking himself for it as soon as he realizes.

 

and steve. oh, man, what a…lord. steve’s appearance itself makes bucky believe in a god. he realizes, with a twinge of amusement, that he couldn’t say much as to his personality- but, he hopes that he’ll be able to get to know steve better.

 

he accepts a request to sub for a math class the following day as he walks home, messenger bag draped over his shoulder, tie loose around his neck and a smile spread on his face.

 

-

shameful isn’t the right word for how steve is feeling. not shameful, not regretful, not apologetic. just…disappointed. in himself, of course, who else?

 

he’d given an empty folder to his incredibly attractive sub and left him to fend for himself with all six of his hellish history classes. he just hopes his room is still intact and that all of his kids are alive.

 

he wasn’t expecting a good turnout, at all.

 

but, when his first period kids walk in on that tuesday morning, the first words out of brent’s mouth are, “dude, that sub was amazing.”

 

“watch it,” steve says, reflexively- you don’t call your teachers _dude_ , “wait. he was?”

 

“yeah! mr. bucky was so good,” peter says as he walks in and catches wind of the conversation. “we talked about the atomic bombs in japan. we learned so much, too, and it wasn’t boring or anything. not that your lessons are, though, mr. rogers, sir.”

 

shooting a teasingly stern glance at the kid, steve feels the tension ebb from his shoulders and the knot in his stomach loosen and dissolve into something akin to relief. oh, thank god.

 

he really owes mr. barnes one.

 

it’s during fourth period that he leaves the kids to compare worksheet answers and looks up mr. barnes’ sub schedule. he’s been thinking about how grateful he is all day, and when michelle from fourth period had mentioned that she had actually _loved_ talking about it with mr. barnes (something unusual for that kiddo), steve makes a decision- he has to thank mr. barnes in person.

 

definitely not an excuse to see him, or anything. it’s not like steve hasn’t been able to tear his thoughts off of that man since he saw him in that coffee shop last friday, or anything.

 

so, he’s subbing in the math building. okay. steve can go catch him right after fourth period and buy him a coffee to go with his lunch. as a thank you, of course. what else?

 

he finds himself unusually excited for fourth period to end. when it does, he shoos his kids out before locking the door and speeding to the math building.

 

he runs into bucky after he steps into the hallway. the latter is wearing a gorgeous button-down that really compliments his eyes- hence why steve is instantly drawn to it.

 

“oh, hello!” bucky says, and steve hopes that he is actually as enthusiastic about seeing him as he sounds to be. “mr. rogers, right? or, steve, yeah?”

 

laughing a little bit at how flustered bucky’s gotten- oh, the poor boy is red in the face- steve nods and flashes him a charming smile. “you got it. bucky, i recall?”

 

bucky just nods, his own smile lighting up his face a bit. distractedly, he swipes a stray piece of chocolatey hair behind his ear.

 

“i wanted to apologize, and say how sorry i am for leaving you with sub plans-,” steve shakes his head, cutting himself off. “but, now all i want to do is buy you a coffee to make up for it.”

 

bucky’s eyes go wide, and steve’s horrified that he’s overstepped, but before he can consider that too much, the former is nodding excitedly.

 

“y-yeah, i mean, there’s no need to apologize, because i had a great time- it was my first day subbing, i mean, ever, and your kids were like…the best?” bucky stutters out, his nose and the tips of his ears undoubtedly rosy. “god, sorry, but really. it was no problem, and i enjoyed your students- truly.”

 

bucky seamlessly slips back into the calm façade, leaving steve a little bewildered. “well, i’m glad they didn’t give you trouble. they spoke very highly of you today.”

 

“they did?” bucky says, gushing a bit- before stopping himself, and continuing. “i’m glad.”

 

“so, that coffee? i know a good place up the street, we can be back before lunch is over.”

 

“i’d love to,” bucky confirms with a nod, turning to steve as they walk off together.

 

bucky orders himself a cinnamon macchiato, at steve’s recommendation, while the latter orders a flat white, iced. immersed in pleasant yet superficial conversation on the way to the shop, the playing field is wide open for the walk back.

 

“so, you said that yesterday was your first day subbing?” steve queries. “from what my kids say, you seem to be a bit of a natural.”

 

bucky scoffs in-between sips of his macchiato. “that’s kind of them, but i was winging it for most of first period, at least.”

 

“you pulled it off well,” steve said, eyes flicking to bucky’s face. he swallows heavily as his eyes take in the sharp line of bucky’s jaw, the way his hair hangs and frames his tanned face and the explicit beauty that is his lips. “you going to become a teacher, or just subbing for the fun of it?”

 

“on track to become a teacher,” bucky says. “i’m in my fourth year of college, so, hopefully i’ll be one soon.”

 

“what subject are you going to teach?”

 

bucky finds himself a little disarmed that steve uses concrete phrases, rather than hypotheticals, when discussing bucky’s future career. everyone he talks to regards bucky’s future as an ‘if’ or a ‘maybe,’ not born of any ill intent but still, it’s a bit of a gut blow when bucky realizes that people do that. do they not think he can do it? do they think it’ll all fall through?

 

bucky shakes himself out of hi stupor with a bite to his cheek and responds, a little too tightly, “history, same as you.”

 

“i know you’re going to be great,” steve says. “if you decide to teach government or economics next year, you might get some of my students. they’d be overjoyed.”

 

there it is again. the ‘know’ and. the ‘next year.’ the ‘if’ had only pertained to the specific subject matter, not the teaching job- and, oh, steve thinks he’ll have his own class by next year? what a dream.

 

“i’ll be perpetually flattered that they love me so much,” bucky says with a chuckle- and oh, yep, that definitely melts steve’s heart.

 

is this what having a crush feels like? steve can’t really remember. all he can realize at the moment is that he wants to take bucky’s hand, but that would be massively inappropriate, especially when they’re walking right back onto campus.

 

“you’re getting listed as my preferred sub, by the way,” steve chuckles. “brent threatened me to do so. i complied. they’ll be blessed by your presence next time i have a day out.”

 

“can’t wait!” bucky chirps, before paling, “not that i want you to be absent, or anything. like, if you were sick, that’d be bad. but i want to teach your class again. sorry, that sounds so bad-.”

 

“bucky,” steve laughs heartily, clapping him on the shoulder with a big, warm hand. bucky stops in his tracks, and looks at steve bewilderedly. “it’s fine.”

 

the aforementioned drops his head and nods, mentally berating himself from slipping from his preferred persona.

 

“besides,” steve continues, “i find your enthusiasm enchanting.”

 

 _enchanting?_ steve mentally smacks himself. that’s not normal person language. that’s steve’s ‘flirty language,’ if it can be called that- it’s still lame, even as that, too!

 

hold up. bucky pauses his racing thoughts. steve, this incredibly attractive, mostly put-together man finds his enthusiasm _enchanting_? the thing that bucky had been trying (and failing) to censor for the past little while- steve just finds it enchanting? it’s a good thing?

 

bucky’s head is whirling but he knows that he’s smiling when he and steve reach their shared campus again, just before the bell.

 

“well, thank you for the coffee,” bucky says, turning to look steve square on. when his stunning eyes meet bucky’s gaze he has to stifle a gasp- is everything about this man so pretty? bucky thinks so. “i had a nice- well, more than nice- time talking with you. i’d love to…see you again?”

 

bucky’s not sure if he’s read this entire interaction wrong or not, and so, for his own sake he’s gonna let steve take the lead here.

 

“i think i’d like that too,” steve replies with a fluttery smile- as in, it makes bucky’s heart flutter-, “are you free friday night?”

 

oh shit, it’s actually happening. bucky pales.

 

“y-yeah! around what time were you thinking? for…?” bucky swallows around the self-hatred bubbling in his throat because that previous string of words had been articulated so poorly, but, whatever.

 

“i’ll pick you up at, say, seven? we can do dinner,” steve suggests, tone warm. “here, can i give you my number? so you can text me your address.”

 

“yeah, of course!” bucky fumbles around in his pocket for a pen and paper- only finding the former. hastily, he slips the sleeve off of his coffee cup and extends it and the pen to steve. “just, on there, i guess.”

 

“that works,” steve chuckles as he scribbles his number down, clicks the pen and hands both of the things back to bucky. “see you friday, at the latest. have a good one, bucky.”

 

with that, he turns and walks off towards his own classroom, leaving bucky stood in the middle of the outside lunch area with a dumb smile and a coffee cup sleeve held in his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what did you think? are y'all excited for their date?


	5. he's so whipped

the next day, bucky wakes with a smile and it lingers on his face the entire day. he’s subbing for a science class, and all they have to do is watch a documentary, so bucky relaxes in the chair and works on that psych paper. his thoughts keep skipping ahead to steve, though, and- oh, he hasn’t texted him yet. he should do that.

 

he pulls the coffee sleeve out from where he’d stashed it in his messenger bag and punches the number into his phone, labeling the contact ‘steve’ with that side-eyes emoji. he had briefly contemplated putting that one drooling emoji but had controlled himself.

 

 **bucky:** hey. this is bucky. hoping this is the right number?

 

he hits send and then tucks his phone away, back in his bag, so he can focus on his work. but little focusing is done, and by the end of that period, he’s checking his phone for a response.

 

 **steve:** that it is! are we still good for friday at seven?

 

 **bucky** : of course!

 

bucky can’t help another smile from overtaking his face as he types out his address and sends that in its’ own message, with a happy face emoji.

 

 **steve:** thank you. any food preferences or allergies?

 

 **bucky:** i like just about everything and nope to the allergies part. excited to see what you come up with for dinner.

 

 **steve:** i’ll think of something great, promise.

 

a blush covers bucky’s cheeks as the winky face emoji attached to the end of steve’s last message sinks in. he puts his phone away as fourth period begins to trickle into the room.

-

 

“what’cha smiling about, mr. rogers?” seth asks as he steps into the classroom at the very start of fourth period.

 

steve shoves his phone into his pocket semi-casually and flashes a quick grin at the student. “nothin’ much. how’re you doing, seth?”

 

fourth period goes smoothly, a short lecture followed by some group discussion and then some sharing with the class. his mind is still stuck on bucky, though, and is trying to conjure up an excuse to see him again today. steve is falling _fast._

 

when the bell rings, he’d already looked up bucky’s sub assignment (he knows, it’s creepy, shut up) and is speed-walking to the science building, only located a blissfully short distance away from his own department building.

 

he catches sight of bucky locking the door behind him and stepping out into the sunlight, which leaves steve a little breathless- god, the man is glowing.

 

“mr. barnes!” steve calls out, waving a hand. the professional name feels a little funny on his tongue but there are students nearby.

 

bucky looks up, his eyes meet steve’s and a wide grin brakes out across his face. “hey, mr. rogers.”

 

so, listen. bucky’s wearing this outfit- okay, he’s wearing black skinny jeans (that make his ass look great, steve notices) and a tucked in maroon button-up but that’s not what catches steve’s attention. it’s the golden tie with little planets and stars printed on it that does.

 

“gotta say, i love that tie,” steve says, quieter now that he’s closer to the other man.

 

bucky turns rose-pink and subconsciously flattens his hand down over the silky fabric. “i swore i’d never wear it because it’s so silly, but i didn’t have anything else that wouldn’t be abhorrent with this maroon shirt.”

 

“eh, you could pull most anything off, i think,” steve says smoothly, slipping his hands into his slack pockets.

 

steve himself is wearing slightly fancier clothes than he normally does. he’s dressing up a little bit (just a little bit!) for bucky, on the off chance he sees him. because dammit, steve loves himself a good suit and all he needs is an excuse to wear it.

 

today, he’s got a stunning dark blue suit jacket and slacks over an impressively bright fuchsia button-up, a combination that is completed by the silver, fuchsia and navy checkered tie that he’d managed to find at kohls. the navy and pink is one of his go-to outfits, punctuated by a pale leather belt and shoes, sleek dark aviator sunglasses and, of course, a silver watch.

 

he catches bucky looking him over, and runs his hand through his own hair a little self-consciously- he knows he looks good, but bucky’s gaze is positively scrutinizing. or, it feels that way, at least.

 

but when bucky trails his eyes back up to meet steve’s gaze and the little bastard _licks_ his lips, steve feels insanely validated and a stroke of confidence grips him.

 

“want to get lunch with me today? i just can’t wait ‘til friday,” he says with a brave smirk.

 

bucky nods and the two start towards the cafeteria.

 

steve educates bucky on the school cafeteria: two lines, one for prepackaged food and one for fresh-made food. steve vouches for the fresh-made food, supplied by the culinary department, and bucky buys himself a salad. steve gets himself chicken tenders and fries, and the two retreat to the teachers’ section of the cafeteria to eat.

 

most teachers bring their own lunches, so the section is almost empty- a fact that steve is thankful for, so he can talk to bucky without his coworkers (who he loves, but who can be scary) scaring him off.

 

the two make small-talk for half the period, devolving into a conversation about their favorite movies, foods, colors, and finally their favorite places they’ve traveled.

 

“honestly, i really enjoy the DC trip i take every year with my students,” steve says. “the wildest place i’ve been has to be afghanistan, when i was in the army.”

 

“you were in the army?” bucky askes, incredible eyes blown wide. “wow.”

 

“yeah,” steve chuckles, rubs the back of his neck. “finished my tour the year before i came to work here. fucked me up a lot, yaknow? but at least i count as a primary source for a lot of history stuff.”

 

that gets a chuckle out of bucky, who says, “my father and grandfather were in the army. they wanted me to be, and i was going to be, but i have a totally bum shoulder.”

 

he shrugs his left shoulder a bit. steve’s eyes flick to how the muscles ripple under the tight, dark red shirt- his mouth goes a little dry.

 

“blessing in disguise, maybe?” steve queries.

 

“possibly. mostly another disappointment to my father,” bucky says, before getting a bit of a glazed-off look in his eyes. steve feels concern pique in his chest; he wants to kiss that look right off of bucky’s face.

 

okay, wow. that was forward. even for steve’s internal monologues.

 

“sorry, that was a heavy tangent,” bucky says with a chuckle, and then he’s back on track. “did you always know that you wanted to teach history, or did your time in the army tell you that?”

 

“ever since high-school i knew i wanted to be a teacher,” steve says with a bit of a wistful expression. “but the experiences i had in the army solidified my passion for history. everything and everyone have a story, and studying history is where you get to hear them. it was the only logical thing for me to teach.”

 

bucky’s got his chin propped in a hand, gazing at steve like he’s a star in the sky and the latter is enamored. he’s about to craft a reply, but then the bell rings, cutting them off.

 

steve grabs his trash and stands up, bucky following suit. “this was nice. can’t wait for friday.”

 

the other nods affirmatively, flashing steve a dazzling smile before slipping away into the crowd.

 

 _hell_ , steve thinks as he dumps his trash into the bin. _i’m so whipped._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> their date (and the aftermath ;] ) is next chapter, so, tomorrow. hope you're enjoying this! lemme know your thoughts?


	6. date night

 

steve’s so looking forward to seeing bucky on wednesday that he checks his sub schedule the first moment he sits down at his computer that morning.

 

the schedule is empty.

 

what?

 

a pang of concern rises in steve’s chest. is he sick? did something happen?

 

he knows his anxiety is blowing things out of proportion, but he’s still worried as hell.

 

he pulls out his phone and shoots off a quick text.

 

 **steve:** hey, you on campus today? if so, wanna grab lunch again?

 

it’d be too creepy to outright say, “i checked your schedule. where are you?” so steve settles for something more innocuous.

 

a reply comes instantly.

 

 **bucky:** no, not today- nor tomorrow, actually. wednesday and thursday are my own school days.

 

 **bucky:** also, i’ll only be able to sub after lunch on fridays.

 

 **steve:** damn. pesky college. was looking forward to seeing you.

 

-

miles away, in the almost-full lecture hall, a smile graces bucky’s face and he types out a smiley face as a reply before shutting his phone off and shoving it in his bag.

 

he pulls out his laptop, notepad and favorite pen and highlighter before turning his attention to the professor at the front of the room. his child psych class is one of his favorites, due to multiple reasons but one of them certainly being that the teacher is brilliant.

 

the lecture hall itself, too, is stunning. huge glass windows, sleek wood desks and padded (yes, padded!) chairs, tall ceilings and state-of-the-art tech, like microphones on each student desk and a extra-big extra-smart board.

 

“alright, class. who’s ready for that quiz?”

 

everyone groans.

 

in hindsight, the quiz had been fine. bucky thinks he got a good grade on it, anyway, and his suspicions are correct when later that day, in one of his education 300 classes, he gets an email from the professor congratulating him on a perfect score and complimenting him on the last question, a short answer one, where she’d particularly liked his answer and insight. he’s glowing for the rest of the day.

 

thursday goes largely similar, nice classes, another pop quiz (goddammit), a few texts from steve, and before he knows it, friday has come.

 

he’s standing in his closet at four in the afternoon trying to pick an outfit for his date.

 

 **bucky:** dress code for tonight?

 

 **steve:** nice shirt and jeans should suffice. see you at seven.

 

that damn winky face emoji will be the death of bucky, honest to god.

 

so he pulls out a grey pair of skinny jeans, and a new dark green button-up he’d grabbed from the clearance rack at kohls the other day, puts them on and over-thinks his appearance for another half-hour.

 

he impulsively throws on a black bowtie he’d found at the bottom of his sock drawer just before five o’clock.

 

he hasn’t seen steve since tuesday, and for a guy he hardly knows, such a span of time shouldn’t feel so disappointing and yet, it does. he’d subbed fifth and six period at white birch, but hadn’t run into steve. he is delighted for their date, if not scared shitless.

 

he hasn’t been on a proper date since brock. since the start of his relationship with brock, where the aforementioned had seemed loving, caring and simply charming.

 

wrong, wrong and wrong. bucky felt another ball of nervousness gouging out a hole in his stomach. five-fifteen.

 

he busies himself studying for an upcoming unit test, and is actually startled when the doorbell rings at six fifty-seven. good time, he notices, not affrontingly early but not late.

 

he jumps to his feet, runs a hand over his hair (which he’s pulled into a bun) and opens the door up wide.

 

steve is hot. bucky knows this. so why is his breath consistently snatched from his body?

 

he’s wearing dark blue jeans, a cream-colored sweater and a dark brown button-up underneath it- and has a big bouquet of violets in his hands.

 

“for my beautiful date,” he says, smoothly, and bucky breaks out into a grin as he takes the flowers.

 

“wow!” bucky gushes, inhaling the perfume-like scent. “these are gorgeous. thank you. i’m gonna grab a vase, feel free to come in?”

 

bucky steps aside and walks to his kitchen, leaving steve to observe the entryway and attached living room. bucky’s place is modest, but he’s only barely able to afford the rent on it thanks to a deal the landlord (a friend of his mother) had cut him. the interior is sparsely decorated, a few rugs, throw pillows and pictures on the beige walls, but the hardwood floors are new and the couch is disgustingly comfortable. bucky likes it all. it’s his home.

 

“lovely little place you have here!” steve gushes as bucky returns. his eyes scan bucky’s body, lingering on the bowtie. “it looks almost as lovely as you.”

 

“quit that,” bucky says, but the smile on his face says otherwise. “you’re flattering me. you don’t look half bad yourself, though.”

 

“awh,” steve says with a chuckle. “you’re killin’ me. shall we get going?”

 

“yeah!” bucky says, a little too enthusiastically (he mentally kicks himself), but steve doesn’t react aversely as they step out of bucky’s place. “where are we going?”

 

“jolene’s!” steve answers, with enthusiasm to match. “have you ever been?”

 

jolene’s is a lovely dinner place with top-tier food and impeccable service, just all in buffet format. bucky’s only been a few times, it’s a little pricier than bucky can really justify spending on non-celebratory meals, but he loves it.

 

“a few times,” he answers, glancing over at steve as they wait for the building’s elevator to come. “i quite like it.”

 

“glad to hear that,” steve says, voice low and tickling bucky’s _something_. “i’ve been looking forward to this all week, honest.”

 

“so have i,” bucky admits bashfully as they step onto the elevator. “truth be told, i was a little sad i couldn’t see you at all the rest of the week. got so wrapped up in my classes and all.”

 

“no worries. it’s tough being a student while subbing,” steve says. “i did the same thing. besides, tonight is gonna make up for it, yeah?”

 

bucky glances at the floor as the elevator stops and they walk out, a smile light on his features. “of course.”

 

the night definitely _does_ make up for it, a night full of great food, even better company and enjoyable conversation that makes bucky’s eyes bright and soul happy. steve’s hand stays on top of his for most of the dinner and their legs brush ever-so-often under the table, something that sends bucky’s heartrate up (in a good way) each time.

 

steve, like a true gentleman, walks bucky to his apartment door and then, bucky, like a true gentleman, pins steve to the wall opposite and kisses him senseless.

 

sorta.

 

what really happens is bucky does, indeed, put his hands on steve’s chest and slowly walk them backwards, confidence sparked by steve’s subtle compliments all evening and the _look_ he had been giving bucky in the elevator.

 

then, he leans in real close, flicks his eyes up to meet steve’s gaze (sees totally blown pupils, which just makes him even bolder), drags his eyes down to skim over steve’s lips, and then whispers, “is this okay?”

 

“god, yes,” steve says, before surging forward, grabbing bucky and spinning just to pin the other man to the wall and press his own lips to the latter’s, gently but firmly (and hotly).

 

surprised and insanely into it, bucky kisses back with fervor, the stubble on steve’s jaw brushing deliciously across his own bare face. steve’s lips, soft and warm, make his entire body tingle, all the way down to his toes, and when steve presses his tongue to bucky’s mouth the latter notices that he tastes like the red wine and desert they’d shared. bucky hooks a leg around the backs of steve’s, fisting a hand in the fabric of his suit as steve nips at his lip, rolls it between his teeth gently before soothing it with a lap of his perfect tongue- bucky stifles a whimper.

 

“inside?” steve asks, just a whisper.

 

bucky breaks away to unlock his door and then, steve backs him against it on the inside and they’re back at it.

 

as steve’s amazing mouth still works on his, he ghosts his fingers up the hard planes of steve’s chest, though his sweater and shirt. steve murmurs contentedly and breaks away for air before pressing another sickly-sweet kiss to bucky’s lips, which he returns enthusiastically, before bringing a hand up to knot in steve’s hair.

 

then, the blonde skates a hand over to bucky’s bowtie and tugs at it once, asking for permission. bucky nods, and steve’s deft fingers undo the knot and pull it off.

 

“that bowtie is simultaneously adorable and hot,” steve breathes, breath hot against bucky’s cheek, and bucky barely has enough time to go _umph!_ before steve’s back on bucky’s lips- which he’s plenty okay with.

 

that said bowtie is dropped onto the floor and bucky’s then pressed into the door even harder, which somehow turns him on even more. steve hitches a knee between bucky’s legs, noses his chin up and presses wet kisses to his neck, just a scrape of teeth followed by the soothing press of tongue- light enough not to leave marks. bucky’s almost disappointed.

 

bucky feels the fire that is the memories of brock lapping at his stomach, but they’re all chased away as steve pulls his shirt out from where it’s tucked in to run a hand up his stomach, thumb sweeping across his freckled skin and stealing the breath from bucky’s lungs.

 

bucky really thought any kind of activity like this would be more difficult considering his past, and repressed memories, but with steve everything feels so different, so much better, that they’re a blip on the horizon.

 

so, bucky kisses back harder, tightens his grip in steve’s hair- which pulls a groan from the latter, much to bucky’s delight, and rolls his hips experimentally.

 

steve’s breath hitches and then he presses back with just as much vigor, returning his attention to bucky’s lips.

 

“is this okay?” he manages between kisses, one hand on bucky’s shoulder, the other mapping out his stomach beneath warm fingertips.

 

“hell yes,” bucky moans, tipping his head up to capture steve’s lips again.

 

his whole body is on fire in the best way possible.

 

steve’s hand reaches around to skate up his back and bucky _shivers_ , pressing closer to steve, who does the motion again out of amusement _and curiosity(?)._ bucky whimpers this time, face buried in the crook of steve’s neck as a blush tints his whole face pink.

 

“wow,” steve says, almost breathlessly. “lemme see you?”

 

it’s a soft request, not demanding, so bucky slowly pulls his face back up to meet steve’s eyes- not expecting the softest expression possible to be there, on steve’s face, but it is, and bucky’s delighted once more. he’s still rose-pink, though.

 

“gorgeous,” steve murmurs, before pressing his fingertips into bucky’s back and going in for another kiss, which bucky happily obliges him to.

 

 “are we gonna-,” bucky starts, in-between kisses, but is cut off when steve returns his attention to his neck, but this time, biting a little harder. “ _oh.”_

“can i leave marks?” steve murmurs, sounding breathless.

 

“below the neck, _please_ ,” bucky confirms, and logically should’ve been prepared for steve to nip at his collarbone (but he wasn’t, and so he moans out loud and he knows that sharon down the hall heard him but he doesn’t give a single shit).

 

“are we gonna do this?” bucky says, managing a full sentence this time. as he says it, his hands fly to steve’s belt buckle.

 

“yes,” steve purrs, before sucking another mark just below bucky’s collarbone.

 

bucky’s heart goes to mush and then he’s kissing steve again, with a smile on his lips at the same time. “okay.”

 

steve slips his hand out from under bucky’s shirt, cups his chin and kisses him again, soft and delicate and sweeter than honey. bucky wants to cry, almost? that’s something to unpack later.

 

“bedroom’s down the hall,” bucky murmurs, and that’s that.

 

forty-five minutes later, bucky is laying naked in bed half-way on top of steve, listening to the hastened rhythm of the latter’s breaths. his chest heaves a bit from the exertion, skin warm against steve’s, and he sighs.

 

“real nice, buck,” he murmurs, voice thick, and bucky hums an agreement, tracing shapes in steve’s chest with his fingers.

 

steve rolls out from under bucky, causing the other to whine a bit. a hand combs through his hair, soft and soothing, and a delicate kiss lands on his forehead.

 

“be right back,” steve murmurs.

 

bucky watches, eyes lazily tracking his movement as steve wanders to the bathroom to get a rag. bucky hears the water running, but his eyes are drifting closed. damn, he feels _great_.

 

a few seconds later, he’s roused by a warm rag sliding over his skin and he groans, wanting steve’s skin back against his, the warmth beside him, enveloping him.

 

“come back to bed,” he slurs, blinking innocently up at steve, knowing that he’s giving him _that_ though-the-lashes look.

 

steve’s expression softens, he reaches out to thumb bucky’s chin. “of course.”

 

he throws the rag in the hamper and slides into bed beside bucky, slipping an arm under his head and pulling just a sheet over the two of them. bucky, still hazy and very much so sated, curls into his touch and slots his legs with steve’s.

 

“sleep well,” steve says softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope it was worth the wait. thoughts?


End file.
